


Twelve Times Eighteen Times Four

by shadowcat500



Series: Spectrum Side-Stories [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A Bundle Of Four Sentence Paragraphs, About The World Of An Upcoming Big Fic tm, At one point, Blood, Dystopia, F/F, F/M, One Of Them Is Three Sentences But When Have I Ever Stuck To A Theme, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), POV Second Person, Unnamed But Still Vaguely Important Character Also Dies, Unnamed Character Dies, it is an original work so it's not really surprising that there are OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16817035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowcat500/pseuds/shadowcat500
Summary: Eighteen four-sentence paragraphs from the point of view of twelve different characters in the same world





	Twelve Times Eighteen Times Four

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of marketing in a way for an upcoming fic, Grey

The bushes of the gardens huddle close around you, the distant sounds of a stream hiding any sound you make. You watch as the flames bloom from your hands like the red oleanders around you. They are alive. So alive that you feel them struggle as you choke them in your fists when you hear your mother draw near.

The city should be silent at this hour, like your house and your camera and you should be. But it isn’t. The city never sleeps. Neither do you.

You can feel the earth calling. It sings to you, like your mother did. You can almost hear it over the beeping of the machines they use to control you. Rocks crawl through your veins.

Your father and mother call you by different names. A gem and a month. It never bothers you till your father hears your mother’s name for you. You don’t see your mother again.

You are the only one awake when they come for you. You are taking the milk out of the fridge when a needle plunges into your arm. You distantly worry about the cost of the wasted milk as you sink to the floor.

Your aunt and uncle and cousin vanished months ago. You miss them, and your parents say that you’re all going to follow them tonight. You miss your cousin. The footsteps behind you and the click of a gun and the hand on your arm tell you that you probably won’t see him again.

The air rushes around you like you always imagined it would. The train smashes into you so fast you forget to hold on, and you almost tumble off when you grab the service ladder. You swing onto the train, and almost miss the unmoving form of someone else who wasn’t so lucky. The grass around them hides the blood.

The rebellious of the city trickle into the camp slowly, and trickle out at the same rate. You almost have a heart attack when two Greys come in one day, until they explain that they are Oak and Beech. You ask them where Birch is. They don’t answer.

Kaden vanished six years ago. His cousin was Disappeared one year ago. Your mother died six months ago. You hope your father doesn’t disappear too.

Today is your eighth time hitching, and today you thought to bring some sticky gloves. You know they’re expensive, far pricier than most hitchers could afford to bring, but the only other that seems to notice is a girl with bright-pink hair and acid-green eyes. She watches you as the train approaches the tunnel. She watches you as you come within a heartbeat of losing your hands to the tunnel.

You don’t know where you are. You don’t know why you’re here. You know that you were supposed to have a rendezvous with Kory. You know she’s probably already dead.

You watch your husband as you come down the stairs. He is nursing a cup of coffee, and looks even paler than usual. You know your complexion is paling too, and you’re pretty sure you know why. Neither of you have aged a day since his father started making both of you take the pills.

You don’t know why your father makes you dye your hair black, or why your mother makes sure you never have your grey eyes covered. You don’t know why your mother straightens your hair or why your father encourages you to look younger than you are. You just know the way they both look at your grandfather with well-disguised terror, the look of satisfaction your grandfather wears when he sees you, and the way they always have a tight grip on your shoulders when he is around. You’re not sure they could stop him if he tried anything though.

Your son vanished two years ago. You’re pretty sure you know why. The flames that you have choked from your blood and your hands tell you why when they lick at the corners of your mind and threaten to burn the curtains. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to tell your wife.

Your son vanished six years ago. The figure at the end of the hall that has scars on his arms and wrists and hands and bruises on his face and shadows in under his eyes has your hair. The figure that is pulling rocks from the walls and ground to crush anyone in his way has your eyes. Your eyes are not worthy to be in anyone’s face, not even your own. 

You miss your camera. They took it from you when you were captured. You had some good footage on there. You wonder why this bothers you more than the fact that they took everything else too.

Pepper and Monika don’t seem like the same person. Pepper is the bright and knowledgeable ray of chocolate-haired sunshine that is practically Candyfloss, Coral and a dozen other’s big sister. Monika is the broken girl whose parents were murdered when she was captured and experimented on, who wants peace for once in her life now that the Crown Silver and all he stood for has been kicked off his throne. You love both of them as much as each other.

Some days the machine comes back online for a few hours. When that happens, you can’t remember your name or where you live or recognise anyone, and it’s terrifying and lonely and unfamiliar and confusing and awful and so so grey. The doctors can’t even take it out to stop it from happening. The Grey Initiative stole more than your body.

**Author's Note:**

> By upcoming, i mean coming out in like a year or something, we're talking a novel here
> 
> Check out my tumblr at pigeon-up-a-tree
> 
> Thank you for reading, hits fuel my writing ability


End file.
